


Tired

by LuciustheDragon



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Alternative Title: Let Freddy Bear Be Pampered, Cuddles, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Eventual Fluff, I guess???, M/M, Poor Freddy, Projection: The Fic, Sleepy Cuddles, Titles? Who Is She???, anxiety stuff, help me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2019-01-10 14:06:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12300690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuciustheDragon/pseuds/LuciustheDragon
Summary: Tired? No. Frederick is never tired. Can’t be. He does not let himself be tired. He is too busy picking up insignificant pebbles from the ground, pulling barely sprouted weeds, and organizing tomes by colour, then first letter of the title, then by size, even though no matter how Frederick organizes the tomes they will always appear wrong to him.





	Tired

Tired? No. Frederick is never tired. Can’t be. He does not let himself be tired. He is too busy picking up insignificant pebbles from the ground, pulling barely sprouted weeds, and organizing tomes by colour, then first letter of the title, then by size, even though no matter how Frederick organizes the tomes they will always appear wrong to him. Rather, Frederick knows that once he deems the organization of tomes done, he doesn’t have any other tasks that aren’t destructive or won’t make anyone question him. Without anything to do, Frederick’s seeming fervor turns to entropy. The energy he invests into his tasks (for the sake of his liege and the Shepherds, he tells himself) turns to twitching hands that pull at his hairs one by one, crimp paper of extraneous documents until it’s too soft to crimp anymore before just tearing it to pieces.  
  
So Frederick decides that he might make himself useful by boiling water for tea. As the water boils, Frederick busies himself with the tea cabinet, contemplating which tea to get, and while he's doing so, he realizes that the teas are not organized. If they are not organized, Frederick will not be able to sufficiently choose his tea. He sorts them by type: black, green, oolong, white, herbal, then within those categories, by alphabetical order—

“Hm? Do I hear water boiling?” Frederick hears the voice and footsteps coming closer. “Oh, if it isn't Frederick.”

Frederick jolts and turns back guiltily, as if he were a child caught doing something wrong. He quickly fixes his expression, acts as if neither he nor Virion is aware of his farce.

“Yes, ‘tis I. What brings you here?” Frederick turns his back to Virion, perusing the teas once again. He rather dislikes looking upon Virion as he scrutinizes him.

“I heard water set to boil and realized that I might delight in a spot of tea. Your company might further convince me to indulge.” Frederick hears the telltale smirk in his voice. Woe as he is to admit it, it gives him a heady thrill which makes his heart flutter, and he becomes even antsier than before. Though wary, he pulls out two porcelain teacups from a cupboard in tacit approval of Virion’s company. He sees the state of the cupboard and grows even more uneasy. The water is simmering, and Frederick begins to organize the teacups by design.

“Come now, Frederick. You have busied yourself more than enough today. Take a seat. I may surprise you with my ability to make quite good tea.”

“But, Virion, with all due respect—“

“Sit.”

Frederick knows that he is being tested. About what, he knows not (or rather, he cares not to admit), but nevertheless he forces himself away from his task and humours Virion by seating himself. The water begins to boil. Frederick conceals his now twitching, fidgeting hands under the table. Without any task to focus on, his mind races and he cannot focus on anything, barely mustering the ability to keep his face neutral. He is abuzz with nothing until Virion places a steaming cup in front of him before sitting across from him with a cup of his own.

“Ah. Thank you.” Both men hear how Frederick’s voice quivers with the words. Virion has caught glimpses of Frederick’s struggles before, but never so warranting concern. He deeply cares for this man, and so he worries, but he cannot make his worry apparent. Frederick, prideful Frederick, is the type to deflect concern overtly directed towards him.

Virion sees no option but to bide his time until Frederick breaks. He does not have to wait long.

Frederick remains stock-still. No move is made to drink the tea. “Go on, Frederick. It won’t do for the tea to turn cold, hm?” He jolts, and guilt sinks into Virion’s bones. He wants so badly to embrace this overworked, overstressed man, to tell him that he is allowed to be less than the picture of stoicism and discipline. He does not want Frederick to suffer, but he knows he would close himself off if Virion is too obvious. He would hold off his breaking point until a far more inopportune moment.

Frederick’s hands visibly shake. To lift the teacup without spilling its contents takes a monumental effort which Frederick can only maintain for so long. Not long enough. The cup slips from his fingers and shatters to pieces on the table, tea spilling across the surface. After the shocking loudness of the porcelain, the following silence is suffocating.

Frederick swallows a newly formed lump in his throat. “ I… I-I—“ he begins, but then he stops when he feels that talking makes him feel like he is choking and he stands up abruptly to leave. Virion is about to demand that he stay because there’s no way he can function in this state, but he seizes up when Frederick buries his head in his hands and sinks to a crouch. Letting go of any semblance of being alright, he lets out a low, muffled wail which makes Virion’s heart lurch. He hastily makes his way over and crouches to Frederick’s level. “Oh, dear—”

“You’re surely laughing, aren’t you? Is seeing me like this some sort of amusement—“

“Do you truly think so lowly of me, my dear?”

No response.

“Frederick, look at me. Would you do that for me?”

After a few seconds, Frederick lifts his face from his hands. Agitation shows in his eyes, but more than that, he looks exhausted. It pains Virion to see him in such a state. He takes a hold of Frederick’s right hand with his own and helps him to stand up, pressing his left hand to the small of his back to support him.

“Will you come with me?” Frederick lightly nods his head in lieu of a vocal affirmative, and so he guides him to Virion’s quarters in silence.

Virion leads Frederick to the bed, helps him to sit down, and lights a lantern before taking a seat next to him.

“How do you feel?” Virion knows that it is a loaded question, but he feels the need to ask.

“Tired. Oh, Virion, I’m exhausted. I’m exhausted but…”

“But?”

He says no more, but Virion can infer just as well. He understands. The numbing fatigue, so intense it agitates to the point of insomnia.

Virion slides off of his bed and takes off Frederick’s shoes and then his own before taking his seat again. He cups Frederick’s cheek with a hand and kisses him on the temple. “I am deeply sorry, my sweet, for upsetting you. I didn’t know how to help you, and I…” Virion trails off when Frederick takes hold of the hand on his cheek and turns his head to kiss the palm.

“No. Cease your apologies. I was being too stubborn for my own good.” He is in his right mind, it seems, but his voice is slurred from fatigue.

“Hm. Perhaps a little bit.” Virion stands up again and strips to his undergarments to ready himself for sleep. He approaches Frederick.

“May I?” Frederick nods his assent, and so Virion pulls off his stockings, trousers, and shirt.

“Lie down, won’t you?” Frederick hums and proceeds to lay himself down. The exhaustion must really have caught up to Frederick if he is being so acquiescent. Virion puts out the lantern and pulls the blanket and sheets down, settling next to Frederick before tugging them back up to cover the two of them.

“Virion?” Frederick asks abruptly. He is turned away from Virion, so he cannot see his face.

“Yes, Frederick?”

“This may be an...unusual request from me, but I—I think that I need to be…”

Virion wants to press him on, but he lets Frederick take his time.

“I really… need to be held tonight. Gods, just forget that I—“

“Shh. Of course, my love. Don’t worry yourself so much. You’ve done enough of that for at least a week.” Virion shifts closer to him, curling against his back and holding him close with an arm around his waist. With his other hand, he runs fingers through his hair the way Virion knows he loves (even if he doesn’t admit it out loud). Frederick exhales a contented, breathy sigh. Virion only then realises the tension he held with worry over his love when it is dispelled by that sound of relief.

“Thank you.” Frederick murmurs. “Love you…” Virion’s heart swells at the simple words. “And I you, Frederick. I love you far more than words can express.”

Virion feels Frederick breathing slow, deep breaths after a few minutes, and he knows him to be asleep. He lets out a sigh of relief. They will need to have a more serious conversation about Frederick’s issues, but it can wait. For now, he is okay. After a gentle press of the lips between the shoulder blades and a quiet “good night” against Frederick’s back, soft warmth blankets him and lulls him to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> iDK I FINISHED THIS AT THREE IN THE MORNING IM NOT CRYING YOURE CRYIGN


End file.
